


A Villain Will Do

by JokirJojo (lovelikecrush), lovelikecrush



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Blood and Gore, Eventual Happy Ending, Love Triangle Except Two of the People Are the Same Guy, M/M, Mentions of Slavery, Not really angsty, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags Contain Spoilers, Tags May Change, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:48:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24586369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelikecrush/pseuds/JokirJojo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelikecrush/pseuds/lovelikecrush
Summary: In the midst of training the Chosen One while struggling against an adversary dedicated to destroy the Jedi Order with Obi-Wan's corpse buried underneath the rubble, a new threat emerges. A new threat whose particular interest in Obi-Wan's well-being consisting of romancing him and antagonizing his padawan Anakin. If it wasn't for his dedication to the Order and the stranger's goal of ending the Jedi Order and the Republic, Obi-Wan thought he possibly had a chance.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Darth Vader
Comments: 25
Kudos: 190





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! If you're concerned about any spoilers or wondering if you need to read the Jedi Quest series to understand the plot, that is completely unnecessary. Anything that needs further explanation than a peek at Wookiepedia will be detailed. As for the underage warning not being tagged, Anakin is 17 in the beginning and has feelings for Obi-Wan. For any explicit acts, warnings will be provided beforehand and tagged once those sections are written. If I decide it's unnecessary down the line, I'll delete the warning and rewrite those parts out.
> 
> Other than that, I'm open for critiques and criticisms towards writing and lore.
> 
> Enjoy!

It was on Obi-Wan’s third loop around the downtown market fruit stall he confirmed they were being followed. Not that such an occurrence was unusual. From enraptured tourists who paid handsomely to record Jedi leaving their beloved Temple to live as normal citizens to the earnest Temple Guards itching to find a rowdy Knight to report to the High Council in despairing hope they’d be permanently off that duty, one could never let their guard down. He didn’t blame them. A being capable of touching the galaxy’s emotions and predictions was a work of magic to those unstirred by the Force. And he of all people wouldn’t berate the Guards for their less than savory tactics when he himself had never experienced standing at post for the inevitable nothing to happen.

That being said, their little stalker was persistent. “I wonder if our friend realizes his stunt is unappreciated,” Obi-Wan said. He glanced at the fruit seller who had stopped meeting his gaze the second time he came around. Perhaps he saw who had been following him and Anakin.

“He’s still following us?” 

Obi-Wan frowned. “Do you not sense him, Padawan?” The answering pout informed him of Anakin’s opinion over the whole matter.

Abnormal, the situation seemed. While one would expect Obi-Wan to notice a trailing presence better than his apprentice, especially after being under the tutelage of the Living Force proponent Qui-Gon Jinn, the fact that Anakin hadn’t was concerning. Without the Force, Anakin’s entire self almost disappeared. The amount of midichlorians in Anakin’s body exceeded grandmaster Yoda’s. So for the Chosen One to miss a obvious sign that had blasted Obi-Wan the morning they stepped off Temple grounds suggested-  


Something malicious? Malevolent? Maybe foreboding? 

He picked up a batch of ruby grapes nestled in the bottom compartment of the fruit stall. Despite the warnings rattling his mind that this stalker was another Xanatos or Granta Omega, someone with a deep-seated grudge against the Jedi or Obi-Wan personally, reaching out to the Force challenged this belief. 

Another odd detail. On a good day, his connection to the Force outside the Temple sent back vague impressions, murky observations on the future. Sure, living beings and droids if he focused hard enough still shaped sharply in his mind. It wouldn’t be good for Anakin’s training if he lost that over him. But now the furrowed eyebrows on the fruit seller as Obi-Wan handed him credits spoke of a timid soul, nervous from the many looks Obi-Wan had thrown his way before finally buying his produce. Not longer would he be a useful informant to the inquiry he had all day. 

“I’m sorry, Master.” Obi-Wan thanked the seller and led the way back to the shops crowded in the plaza. “The Force normally comes naturally to me, but today it’s so…” Anakin dropped his sentence.

“Distant?” 

A small family of three jumped out their way, an action he’d usually attribute to wariness or fear. Except now specific features jumped out at him. Their expressions displaying smiles even after they moved out their way, the child leaning forward to waddle after them only to be stopped by a gentle tug of the mother. The only basis he had for his assurance that the older woman was a mother instead of the equally credible idea of a sister, nanny, or friend was an educated guess anyone familiar with the concept of family would infer. Only the word ‘Mother’ existed. Other terms attempted to crumble without a hint of acknowledgement they even formulated. 

“Yeah. I can still command the Force and fight, but the constant sound I usually hear is gone. Everything’s silent.” At a lower pitch Anakin probably expected Obi-Wan would be too distracted to hear, he whispered, “I wonder if this is the inner peace everyone talks about.”

He nodded. Not in response to the second comment, Obi-Wan wasn’t completely gone. Their relationship wasn’t ready for that type of openness yet. 

They took another bend near the tech corner before Obi-Wan stopped. Anakin matched his halt alongside Obi-Wan, albeit the calm posture Obi-Wan maintained in face of the unknown threat didn’t carry to his padawan. The sunlight blazed above, streaks of lightning white reflecting off the metal placard on top of the door frame and onto Obi-Wan’s upper lip. Had he bent over slightly, his ability to see would rely solely on the Force and Anakin. How fortunate that today such shortcoming wouldn’t matter today. While the light pierced him, it added a russet orange glow around Anakin, his personality shining despite the crude effort to exhibit his perception of the ideal Jedi. 

Try as he might, Anakin’s existence on Tatooine could never be erased. And why should it? How many other masters could recount tales of their nine year old padawan being able to fix the busted air conditioner in two days based off guesswork when Obi-Wan had sent in a work order two months ago, meanwhile relied on Obi-Wan for three months to watch him bathe before understanding he wouldn’t drown and wasn’t wasting water. An exact replica as his padawan already existed in the form of Ferus Olin who already studied under Siri. The Force assigned him and Anakin together, and whether he felt grateful for its decision remained a secret to him, no matter if feelings of pride or ownership were discouraged in the Order.

“If I remember correctly, Dex’s airspeeder is in need of the X2-Type 4 engine, correct?” Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin groaned. “It’s a Type 5, Master. No one would be caught dead with a Type 4 above water, especially here.”

“Are they truly so different?”

“If you don’t care about the power cell being completely different and running empty after five minutes, then no.”

He handed his credit pouch to Anakin, the implication clear they’d be leaving with more than an engine. Anakin flashed a grin before sprinting in the shop. 

Please no cleaning droid. A blue meditation mat woven out of skeleton weed originating from the jungles of Onderon, as far back as the days of the Old Republic Garen had theorized, destroyed in a matter of seconds. One moment, it sat underneath Obi-Wan while he connected with those around the Temple, the goal of absolute unity impaired by the dross of individuality chaining him to his room, the next hurling the droid at the kitchen counter. Never again would he want to experience that extreme a whiplash in emotion. 

At least today his wish came true. The arrival of his uninvited companion stood right behind him, no hint of footsteps or whip of wind to indicate he had intruded on Obi-Wan’s afternoon. 

“I see you’ve finally braved your face.” Obi-Wan twisted his neck towards the stranger, the quip he prepared one loop ago fizzled out. “Or not.”  
Rather than a face, a mask greeted back. Pitch black, covering his nose and mouth by encircling his ears. His eyes were hidden behind an ordinary pair of pilot goggles, the lenses darkened enough where Obi-Wan could note human eyes but not approximate a color. The only aspect exposed was light brown wavy hair curled behind his ears, a slight fringe crumpled awkwardly on top of the goggles, possibly covering his eye it they weren’t in the way. A pair of ordinary brown tunic and leggings set dressed him, a substitute Jedi in the making.

“Sorry to disappoint, Master Jedi,” the man said. 

As much as he wanted to dismiss the stranger as a one-off character, he was no fool. Granta tricked him the same way. Even if the measures of this man keeping his identity a mystery were paltry at best, a simple wave of his hand to dismantle it if he had to, Jedi gained wisdom from mistakes of their own and of those before them. To think of himself as superior by hinging on just what the stranger revealed was the mark of someone unfamiliar with deception.

Placing his body perpendicular to the man and Anakin, who hadn’t even made it to the counter yet, he asked, “Would it be imprudent of me to ask that you show your face?”

“I don’t mind if you ask, as long as you’re gentle.”

Oh, it was one of these types. “Would you mind?”

The man cracked his knuckles behind his head. “I have a thing against showing my face, y’know. One look and you’d run away.”

“No need to be bashful. I’m sure you’re lovely.”

The stranger’s arms returned crossed over his chest. He tilted his head back and forth, emphasizing the gesture with the unnecessary length of time he spent resting it on each shoulder. “Still a charmer, huh? No can do. But I’ll give you my name if you like.”

Years of control prevented his eyes from starting at the remark. Unless the man was referring to his Padawan days, which served as moments of reflection to relate to the issues Anakin faced, this reputation of a seducer praying on the interests of any victim in his grasp held no ground. Whoever he was, he was no ally. Any further association with either a liar or someone more knowledgeable on his past than himself pointed towards a bigger headache than he was willing to undergo. 

Just the name and he’d report to the Council. Hopefully they’d listen to his matter with greater attentiveness than the issue with Granta. “Only if you truly desire so.”

Anakin had now relocated to the service desk, a little bit closer to the cashier. From his padawan’s point of view, it would look like Obi-Wan was in casual conversation with a curious Coruscanti citizen who was likely sick. As long as the attention remained on him, he’d forgive Anakin for this spell of ditziness. After all, how unfortunate was it that the appearance of the stranger coincided with Anakin’s lacking connection to the Force which seemingly transferred to Obi-Wan. 

Although he couldn’t verify it, he imagined the bounce in his hair hide gleeful smile that Obi-Wan was participating in this silly game. Whether at his expense was up in the air. “Pateesa.”

“Well, I can’t say you’re a friend of mine. Any other name?”

“What!” Obi-Wan jumped at the shout, their conversation loud enough to invite others to stare at them. He placed a firm nod to direct them away, the stranger’s reaction more explosive than rational. “Since when did you learn Huttese? Did you pick up a few key phrases, or are you fluent?”

The abrupt transition into another language resembled the numerous times younglings had seen him train with Anakin during saber practice in the Training Room. Different from Anakin’s peers who were raised mostly from birth and had saber discipline instilled in them once their hands or similar limbs could hold one, his padawan practiced solely with Obi-Wan instead of others his age. Those same padawans who’d excuse themselves from the dining table when he and Anakin arrived had cheered at their demonstration of swapping saber forms, Obi-Wan always a form ahead but not always the one leading the change. 

The same energy carried through here, too. Obi-Wan cleared his throat, the sign to engage evident in the stranger’s high lilt raised above the deep voice he began their talk with. “I’m as fluent as one could be without being raised in such an environment. Your name, please?”

“Please isn’t a real word in Huttese. Whatever word you used, ‘allicu,’ doesn’t mean anything. That being said,” he paused, his eyes flickering to the tech shop’s doors sliding open, Anakin lugging the engine, a hydrospanner, and what he hoped wasn’t another behavior module for the new droid he’d waste away building at night, “this is already a better place, Obi-Wan.”

Before Obi-Wan could question how he knew his name, the stranger tugged his mask above his chin, hooked an arm around Obi-Wan’s neck, and with a vicious smirk that relayed harsh alarms from the Force far too late, he kissed Obi-Wan.

Kiss, as it may be, was putting it delicately. If one required a more accurate description to convey the act currently taking place, Obi-Wan would word it as ‘shoving his tongue down his throat while pressing their chests close enough to feel their hearts beat in tandem at the sheer blatant gall, his one free hand reaching under Obi-Wan’s tunic in the stranger’s struggle to be even closer.’ In front of a busy crowd on a weekend. While Anakin was watching!

Anakin, it seemed, had taken the kiss much more severely than himself. Once they separated, Obi-Wan’s hands spazzing near the stranger’s biceps and lips bitten and red, the whisk of air that darted his face betrayed its source as Anakin swinging a punch. A punch that turned into the stranger gliding forward with the motion to flip Anakin on his back.

Anakin moaned, the distressing sound being forced louder as the stranger tapped his boot on his padawan’s chest. Murmurs from the crowd digressed into cries. What was once a scandalous treat of a Jedi kissing someone in public developed into a fight.

Obi-Wan lifted his tunic higher to show his hand wrapped around his lightsaber’s hilt, unlit but ready to ignite if the situation called for it. “It would be in your best interest to step away from my padawan. Immediately.”

The mask protected his entire face again, the light, easygoing mood gone. “I wasn’t trying to start anything. He came at me.” He sighed, raising his foot off Anakin enough to not lean his weight but still present to perform a stomp to the chest. “My name’s Vader.”

“Vader?” Fake name or alias, for sure.

But who was he working for? Granta was definitely out. For all his talk about revenge against the Jedi, the appearance of another Force user capable of controlling it to the point he could affect the Chosen One would had done worse under his orders. Only Granta was allowed to flaunt his skill at outmaneuvering them. And unlike his other associates, this was one he had no chance at eliminating unless a stroke of luck guided his every move. But if he did discover Vader’s presence, a guarantee if even Obi-Wan knew, then this problem must be resolved at the moment. All Senator Sauro needed to hear was news of Obi-Wan fraternizing with a rogue potential darksider in the middle of town to push forward more anti-Jedi rubbish. 

Forget the Council. He’d face them over the Senate any day. The Council would at least be able to discern he was telling the truth in the same amount of time the Senate took for roll call.

He came closer, his other arm out and weaponless. “Vader. Under other circumstances, I’d say it was nice meeting you, notwithstanding your unusual greeting. I hope you can understand my hesitation towards extending a warm welcome.”

“I get it, Obi-Wan. You can drop the formalities.”

Kind words to say for someone who had their foot trained on top of Anakin’s sternum. “I suppose I should thank you, then. Now if you may.”

Vader bobbed his head in agreement, swiping Anakin’s lightsaber then hopping off him. He activated it, spinning with one hand with the expertise of a combatant instructor before sprinting away. 

“Anakin, call for backup!”

“Master, wait!”  


He darted past the crowd that begun to shriek once Vader had stolen Anakin’s weapon, an arm’s length distance behind. Over a flower bed, underneath a wet clothesline, and right back into the now empty food market. Vader skidded to a stop and swung his left arm gripping the lightsaber in a wide arc.

Obi-Wan caught the blade with his own. Vader bashed his weapon against Obi-Wan’s, pure blows making up for the sloppiness. Every strike forced him to block. In the brief seconds Obi-Wan gleaned, a misplaced cuff that threw off Vader’s stability, he could spot amateur mistakes: relying on his front foot for support, straight elbows but loose wrist, and his failure to guard his right arm. 

He recognized the form as Djem So although sloppy. Fine. Soresu wasn’t nicknamed the Way of the Mynock for no reason. Obi-Wan could outlast a fighter running on fumes. 

So when he held his lightsaber near his chest in preparation for the next hit, his opponent disappearing almost didn’t register. What did register was the forecasted image of a lightsaber slashing his back. He rolled behind the fruit stand and kicked it over to his previous location. Vader stumbled over a peel and dropped the lightsaber. 

He Force pushed Vader. The move worked, except Vader once again grabbed his stolen weapon back.

With a snort, Vader said, “I must be real out of practice if I’m losing to you now.” Vader kicked himself back up.

“You should feel honored. Your technique is poor, but your talent counteracts it. A little guidance and you’d make a fine Djem So practitioner.” Obi-Wan blew away the fraying strand scratching his eye. “I’d love to bring you back to the Temple. A better chance to hone your skills.”

Where was the backup? The Plaza was in ruins, the overhead streamers broadcasting the food stands torn and fluttering down, produce smeared into the grass and under his shoe, his sweat and fruit juice mixing together on his forearm emanating a sweat sourness. Already he could hear a HoloNews craft hovering a safe distance above them. 

What a disaster.

Vader ran away so Obi-Wan chased. The spiraling stairs leading down were the least of his problems. Up above, he had enough space to put up a legitimate resistance. Down here, his focus remained on keeping civilians out of harm’s way. Vader certainly seemed indifferent to their survival from the fact he kept the lightsaber activated while rushing past others, so, as always, the Jedi coerced into juggling multiple, semi-conflicting objectives at once.

They came across a drop off area for the airspeeders directing to Lower Coruscant. Vader stopped at the edge, grimacing at the sight. Unless he wanted to risk falling to his death without any visible functioning speeder, he’d give himself up.

At last, it was over. Obi-Wan’s chest heaved, the energy pulsating his blood earlier depleted. Fascinating. He heard stories of Jedi capable of using Battle Meditation to influence allies from the days of the Mandalorian Wars. Did Sith also specialize in support roles? He couldn’t imagine it.

“ Shit, really? Fuck it.” 

Vader jumped off the platform onto the speeder of a young Rodian, Obi-Wan a vehicle behind despite his stamina destroyed. With a simple flick, Vader rammed the lightsaber into the engine, grey smoke pummeling out before bursting into flames. 

Obi-Wan had no choice. He grabbed the controls from the original driver of the speeder he hijacked, accelerating down to catch up. The concentration necessary to command the Force had abandoned him for Vader, thus his best effort to save the Rodian was by snagging him by his shirt collar, ignoring Vader’s fingers sliding in his tunic again.

Positive his grasp was steady, he steered into an open workshop where he dropped the Rodian to the ground. Obi-Wan joined alongside him. His hip buzzed, his commlink demanding he answer.

“This is Obi-Wan Kenobi reporting-” He coughed drily, the sound better resembling a dying bantha than a trained Jedi. Whatever ability Vader utilized, however beneficial it was in the moment, could kill a weaker man. “This is Obi-Wan Kenobi reporting in.”

“Master, where are you!”

Anakin was safe. In the haze of battle, the concept of Obi-Wan having a padawan drew a blank. Only he and Vader were alive, other Jedi lurking nearby with obscure features and muffled voices.

He brought the commlink next to his ear, Anakin’s voice a bright reminder of why Obi-Wan had pursued Vader in the first place. “Anakin?”

“Master! You’re alive!”

“And you’re shouting, young one.”

“Don’t move, we’re coming to get you.”

Gone for a while and Anakin decided to lecture him? What had the galaxy come to? He supposed he’d allow it this time. 

He kept the commlink on even after disclosing his location, Anakin’s frantic piloting wrenching screams out of he believed Siri, Ferus, and Tru. Rolling to his side, a sharp pierce stung his upper rib cage.

Kyber crystal. Dull blue, warm to the touch, and humming from use. Vader needed the lightsaber but not the crystal. Considering the value of a working lightsaber without its crystal skyrocketed in the black market, why willing give it up?

Something wasn’t right. Several questions he thought answered needed reevaluating. What was the purpose of stalking Obi-Wan and speaking to him specifically if all he needed to do was pickpocket numerous Jedi who roamed town? Was he a Sith and if so, was he the master of Darth Maul? Had Obi-Wan attracted another lifetime enemy awaiting his downfall? Was Anakin’s status as the Chosen One trivial to a being who could potentially weaken him?

Nothing good would come out of his report to the Council.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the feedback!

Just as Obi-Wan expected to his return to the Temple, a Guard informed him that he and Anakin had been summoned.

“Is it urgent?” he asked.

The Guard gave a noncommittal grumble. Not even a chance to bathe, it seemed. He thanked him for the message and led Anakin through the halls to the High Council Chamber, Siri and the other padawans gone after he assured them he was fine.

Obi-Wan fiddled Anakin’s kyber crystal in his pocket, its weight light and essence pure. He was planning on giving it back once Anakin reconstructed a new lightsaber, a task he’d launch into when the meeting was over. Although he figured the topic of Anakin losing it would be deemed less significant than where it ended up.

At the shut doors to the Chamber, Obi-Wan said, “For the time being, do not speak unless you are directly addressed.”

“What, why? I was there, too!”

“A moment or two, if we’re being kind.” Anakin huffed over his shoulder. “Padawan, please.”

“Okay, okay. Still, I have a bad feeling about this, Master.”

“As do I.” 

The doors slid open. Obi-Wan stepped a couple meters in front of grandmaster Yoda then bowed, Anakin following suit soon after. A look around the room revealed the usual members who joined most sessions: Mace Windu, Plo Koon, Eeth Koth on the right while Ki-Adi Mundi, Adi Gallia, and Yaddle were on the left. Kit Fisto was off world again, the only one able to alleviate the serious mood in even Windu. 

“Good evening, Masters,” Obi-Wan said.

Yoda tapped his cane against the floor, the sign to raise his head. “Obi-Wan. Skywalker. Received news concerning you fighting a thief, we have. Multiple shops and vehicles ruined. One stolen, in fact. Anything to say?”

“Yes, Master. While in town, we encountered a strange man who had been trailing us for quite some time. After assaulting my padawan, I pursued him with the intention of escorting him to the Temple after identifying him as a possible darksider. Unfortunately, he escaped with a hostage, and I was forced to let him go to ensure the hostage’s safety.” 

Yoda nodded his head during his synopsis, his fingers still clutching the top of his cane. “Darksider, you say? 

“A potential one, yes. Our fight confirmed so.”

The expression on Yoda’s face worsened. This was exactly why Obi-Wan had warned Anakin to be silent. Everyone in the Council was in disbelief after his unproven claims that Qui-Gon’s other apprentice Xanatos had a son sworn to the eradication of all Jedi, even more so once he explained his Force insensitivity. With no records or second hand accounts other than Anakin’s, it was written off as a ghost chase. And now a separate threat arrived the day after they advised him against wasting his skills against discontent critics disguised as enemies.

“Was there anything else to corroborate your theory, or is this purely speculation?” Windu asked.

“Yes, Master.” His hands were hidden inside his long sleeves drenched in sweat and his outer aura calm, but the anxiety thrumming through his bond with Anakin likely reverberated through the others as well. “His mastery over Djem So is unrefined but competent enough to indicate some sort of formal training. Alongside his ability to control the flow of battle, I suspect after his thievery he wanted to test his skills against an experienced opponent.”

Windu’s fingers stapled underneath his chin. “Skywalker’s weapon?” Obi-Wan dipped his head in agreement. “So, our thief is currently unlocated with a fully functional lightsaber?”

“It’s without a kyber crystal, but he could obtain one from Ilum or manufacture a synthetic crystal.”

“Hm.” Windu dug further into his knuckles. “Good job on retrieving it.”

“It was less of a retrieval and more of a return. After cornering him to the lower floors, he gave it back.”

Obi-Wan kept his gaze fixed on Windu despite the change in atmosphere. Suspicious for a darksider to seek Obi-Wan out, lead him away from his unarmed padawan, wreck a civilian locale, direct the fight to a location where almost all recording devices were displayed for show, and then give him back a crystal only the Jedi had access to. Did Vader plan this? He couldn’t comprehend for what purpose though. In the unlikely event the Council even believed Obi-Wan was friends with unsavory individuals, the jump to him wanting anyone grazing the Dark Side was dubious enough. Not after Qui-Gon’s murder at the hands of a Sith.

“I see. Settle down. Though not a Force user, we’ve notified the police to look out for the thief based on the video recorded by the local news network. Until then, you and Skywalker have been assigned for a mission for Ryloth,” Windu said.

Just like that, he had brushed off the incident. He couldn’t distinguish whether the mounting irritation came from him or Anakin anymore.

“Please, Masters. If you’ve seen the video, then you understand-”

“That you were caught off guard by a common criminal, Obi-Wan. Nothing to be ashamed of,” Mundi spoke up. “We’ve reviewed the footage and concluded nothing irregular. Perhaps this, ah, what was his name again?”

“Vader.”

Mundi’s forehead throbbed, his binary brain likely analyzing every detail about the name beyond the obvious hint of its lettering and pronunciation. Seemingly satisfied, he continued. “I don’t recall anything about this Vader character. If you look over the video, you too will realize the truth. An amateur duelist with a broken weapon is less of a concern than the grave matter unfolding on Ryloth.”

Before he could stop him, Anakin cried, “But he took the Force away from me!” The glare Obi-Wan threw his way was ignored. “Since we left the Temple, my connection’s been weak. I could barely track Master’s presence next to me. Vader’s obviously the Sith Lord we’re looking for, so why are we sitting on our hands? Can’t you see he’s not lying?”

Several Masters opened their mouths, millennia worth of lessons and codes of conduct to teach his padawan, all dying out due to Yoda’s grunt. Obi-Wan could barely hear it himself, the grandmaster a champion in emotional control. With a deep sigh and furrowed browbone, Yoda berated Anakin. 

“Accuse your Master of lying, did we when? Permission to speak, given, when? Underestimate the Council’s ability, you do. Only a Padawan could think a Sith Lord discovered by him first. Listened to your Master’s story, we did. Uncovered the hidden Sith, we did not. If connection to the Force has weakened, first step to look is within yourself.”

Anakin’s cheeks flared red, the urge to apologize and his desire for them to be trusted against all evidence combining into a well of anger, humiliation, and distress. Twenty years ago, Obi-Wan had suffered a similar appearance when he was briefed on his destination to the Agricorps after no Master or Knight had chosen him. Even the fact that Yoda was the one giving the message was the same. 

“Padawan, return to your quarters. Meditation might cool your head,” Obi-Wan said. Anakin’s gaze pierced into him, the tiny crinkles around Obi-Wan’s eyes softening for the brief moment needed to assure his padawan that Obi-Wan was giving him a way out. Had he concentrated on their bond, he would had reached this conclusion sooner, but Obi-Wan couldn’t blame him. No one bore Yoda’s lashing tongue without being flustered.

After Anakin performed all customary actions to dismiss oneself from the Council with only a slight tremor and left, the meeting continued. In three days, he and Anakin would depart for Ryloth to deliver supplies after an awful planet wide drought. The matter of Vader would be looked into by criminal underworld expert Tera Sinube while the Temple Guards who were on shift during the fight would assist in cleaning downtown. He was released with the video recording sent to his datapad.

When he entered their dual Master-Padawan home, Anakin missing but still present inside the Temple, he rubbed his chin, his beard tickling his hand. The whole affair had been a headache but an improvement over the Senate deciding to weigh in as well. Which if they did, he and Anakin would be in the Outer Rim by the time they voted on punishments. There was always a star even in a dark galaxy, it seemed.

A cup of Nabooian tea, a mild serving of jogan tart he had hidden behind their rolled meditation mats, and a neck pillow relieved the stress from all day. He clicked on the video.

It started with Obi-Wan and Vader fighting in the Plaza. Blurry from the long distance but informative enough to study the essential details. Throughout the three-minute clip, he recognized why the assessment on how he handled the situation was harsh. 

Not once did Vader indicate he used the Force. To an outsider, all one could see were two Jedi fueding. The headache he thought gone rushed back, beating his right eye. No wonder they were sent off planet, they resembled two aggressive drunkards rather than the criminal and the one trying to apprehend him. 

He repeated the video over and over, hoping for any further insight to dispel the misconception of Vader being an average criminal with above average fighting skills. A complete blank, although the replay of him kicking the fruit stand increased the beating to a pounding pain. The Council presumed his actions in regards to being startled by a thief, as if he hadn’t trained for years and beaten a Sith apprentice. 

As to how he knew Darth Maul was the apprentice, the Council inferred since he was too easy to defeat, his Master lurked in the shadows. Obi-Wan didn’t remember ever conceding the battle being easy, but he still agreed. And he was sure now that Vader was a Sith as well. Or darksider. Definitely a Force user at the very least.

Waves of buried agitation flowed behind the door. He turned off the video as Anakin stomped in and patted the seat next to him. Anakin accepted his offering, sinking into the cushion.

“For what it’s worth, your behavior after Yoda’s reprimand was commendable. I don’t imagine your peers could fare better,” Obi-Wan said.

Anakin shoved his face alongside his own arm and mumbled, “Not like it matters. Doubt anything I said changed his mind.”

“Once you’ve been the head of an organization for long, especially the Order, one learns sometimes it’s the way you express your words rather than the words themselves that impacts you the most.”

“So a politician?”

As a response, Obi-Wan handed over his datapad so Anakin could watch the video too. He cracked his neck, a nice precursor for meditation before he went to bed. “Thoughts?”

“He’s a pervert who can fight.”

“Pervert?” Shoot, he forgot to mention how he got distracted. No doubt that rumor mill would be spread among the citizens who witnessed the event. 

“Master, this sleemo kissed you then turned around and threw me! And he waited for me to see it too. I could tell by the look on his face.”

“You could tell behind the goggles and mask?”

“Yeah! Wait, no!” Obi-Wan laughed at Anakin flustering to come up with a coherent thought. At last, Anakin gripped his pants, bunching up the loose fabric. “He definitely waited, though.”

“I highly doubt it. He likely used me as a distraction to steal your weapon. Had you travelled with another master, Vader would’ve done the same.”

“No way. You don’t need the Force to see that. Even in your fight, he’s spending valuable energy and power to get close to you.”

He hadn’t noticed that. Anakin was exaggerating. There would be no point to that. Most lightsaber forms and sword techniques rarely incorporated grappling. It was obvious he misinterpreted the disturbance to his day as flirting. When he repeated his findings to Anakin, Obi-Wan’s nose scrunched at the sour look resting on his face.

“What?” Obi-Wan asked.

“You really don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

“When are we leaving for Ryloth?”

“In three days.” He guessed Anakin was over the incident as well. Not like he would see Vader once they were off planet. The mission took priority. “We leave at dawn.”

“Did the senator finally ask us for help on the girls being kidnapped and shipped everywhere? Took him long enough.”

While Ryloth should had been renowned for its beautiful underground springs that remained cool in spite of the blazing heat and for its Floating Rock Gardens flashing rare stones sailing in the air, its main export being young Twi’lek girls was no secret. Since the Old Republic, every female citizen on Ryloth was subject to the possibility of being sold without ever being found again. The Republic’s antislavery laws crumbled thanks to the buyers and debt holders insisting the girls had signed a contract willingly and through their own discretion chose not to come back. Neglecting to mention Obi-Wan had never seen the transaction in person or family members compensated, as long as the Senate permitted so, the action was legal.

“No, Anakin. Senator Orn Free Taa requested drought aid and recovery.”

“Of course, why else ask for a Jedi’s help?” Anakin stretched off the couch. “I’m going to bed.”

In another hour, Obi-Wan followed Anakin’s example. He had a lot of preparation to do.

Over the course of his remaining full two days, Obi-Wan scrambled between checking in with Sinube and Chief Librarian Jocasta Nu for any information pertaining to Vader and perusing old mission reports dating to his first mission during his padawan days. Other than news of a burning speeder crashing into someone’s shop while missing the body, nothing new turned up. 

Seeing Qui-Gon’s notes on missions was strange. Unlike other masters, Qui-Gon’s language bordered on flowery, marking down any observation of unique flora, Obi-Wan’s temperament, and gossip he honed in on. What would his Master had written during the Naboo crisis and Tatooine? He never got the chance to, Obi-Wan doing it in his stead, but maybe he detected Vader at the time. 

The past was the past. Worrying about what ifs would do him no good. It wasn’t like he could ask anyways.

On the final day, Obi-Wan brought Anakin to the back of Dex’s diner to replace the engine of his speeder. The withering looks from the cleaning Jedi and civilians unnerved him, but he owed it to his friend to return a favor. 

Obi-Wan looked over the menu and grunted as Dex crushed him in a hug. “You’re hurting me, Dex.”

“Lighten up, friend! A hug never killed anyone.”

Dex’s could. “Sorry Anakin couldn’t fix it sooner.”

“Whattaya know, the only way to get the tadpole to see me is to break somethin’. Can’t ya order him to come around sometime? I’ll even add a discount for yer next meal.” Dex burst out in chuckles, his four arms jerking from laughter.

A couple of credits off sounded cheap, but it was the best Dex could do. He was a businessman, not a philanthropist. “Maybe next time we come back to the capital.”

Although he couldn’t force Anakin to speak to Dex, his friend’s call for mechanical help was always answered once Obi-Wan brought it up. The admiration and giggling he had at Dex’s nickname waned as he grew older to the point that Anakin declared he was sick of eating at the diner when he was 15. Claimed he hated the food. No one ever said his padawan’s strong point was lying. Otherwise why would Anakin agree to help out if he didn’t like Dex? One time Dex had called in the middle of night as all his waitress droids circuited out overnight. Nevertheless, Anakin got his tools out before Obi-Wan could mention they’d have to leave the Temple and did it with little complaint. For all of Anakin’s flaws, selfishness was not one of them.

“Ho, wouldn’t wanna miss yer lover, huh?”

“They’re not lovers.” 

Obi-Wan jumped at Anakin’s voice, the cheap rubber seating squeaking as he moved. “You’re done already?”

Anakin sat at the opposite side of the small booth. “Just an engine change, no big deal.” Dex leaned in, anticipating Anakin would follow up on his statement. “That guy was a pervert who groped Master in public then attacked me when I tried to rescue him. I’ve never seen him in my life.”

“Figured that was the case,” Dex said, all shoulders slumping in disappointment. 

“I was not groped, Anakin. Other than that remark, he’s right. I have no clue who this Vader is or what he wants from me.” 

“Well, well, well. All those fancy machines and magic powers and you haven’t heard. If some of yer buddies took a hike down, they’d know all about it.” Even though the diner was closed early, the streets full of citizens and the air locked in traffic from rush hour, Dex checked to assure no one could listen in. “Yer friend on the news fled yesterday but right before he did, he preached about getting rid of the Jedi, and get this, the Republic too.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened. Not once did Sinube bring this up. “And customs let him go knowing this?”

“What’s it to them? Same old, same old. The Republic’s stood her ground longer than us. What can one fellow do?”

Anakin scrolled through the menu, his chin forming small dimples. “Maybe they’ll listen now, Master.”

But Plo Koon just thanked him for the tip before leaving for a Senate hearing regarding a law pushing to end work unions, his attention elsewhere. Feeling disappointment towards their honored leaders was improper, but there was a reason they were bestowed the rank of Master while he was a Knight. He’d learn to overcome it.

At the hangar, Obi-Wan reviewed their gear and supplies while Anakin inspected the cargo ferry they would take. Fit for transporting the shipments and equipped with laser cannons and shields, they would be sitting targets if Vader enacted his grand plan. The sole safeguard relied on the hyperdrive. 

“We’re gassed up and ready to go,” Anakin said, wiping the grease off the pads on his fingers with a grey rag.

“One moment.” Upon confirming twice all supplies were accounted for, he gestured for Anakin to get inside.

The interior reflected aching white, a soft reminder for crew to not fall asleep. The Order had commissioned several models of civilian craft yet made little efforts in adjusting it to their standards. The obnoxious yellow lining outlined the closet repurposed as the rest area, a metal bunk bed affixed to the wall shared with the cargo so they could hear every scrape it made while travelling. Oh well. With Anakin piloting, they’d be at Ryloth within a standard week.

The Force must have respected Obi-Wan’s plea as their arrival was uninteresting. Except finding out Anakin made for a terrible romantic, his padawan delivering tired pick-up lines from a datapad he found stuffed inside an overhead bin. He could stand comparisons of his eyes to various rocks and stone in the galaxy for so long. Blue must be a common color for rocks.

“It’s a wonder these sell so much with lines like these,” Obi-Wan said.

“Wait til you hear the erotic section, they get worse.”

They landed before Anakin could muster the courage to say a single one. Dreary brown enveloped the landing port, tufts of dirt sprouting up once the landing gears hit. Ryloth truly was the sister planet to Tatooine. Not even the color palettes clashed, Ryloth wearing tawny shade to distinguish itself from its sibling.

A scientist greeted them in Basic and instructed them which zones were sectioned off for dropping off supplies. She also provided a strict warning to avoid wandering into the villages and engaging the citizens. After showing them to their sleeping tent located as far away from the villages as possible, she left.

From the lack of hovercraft, he suspected why the mission was planned for six days. This relief assignment was already a disaster. 

Pulling up the map, Obi-Wan waved Anakin over. “According to this, there are two harvester vehicles we’ve been granted to use parked inside one of the port’s compartment. Starting now, if we fill up the harvesters to their max load, we can finish in five days.”

“There’s nothing better?”

“I’m afraid not.”

Anakin drove off north on a vehicle built for farm work while Obi-Wan went south towards the jungles. The dull scenery transformed into a vibrant green, its exposure to the drought evident in the amount of leaves crunching underneath as he rode. He stopped beside a two-story hut concealed by hanging vines that he needed to crack to pass by. 

He cleared out crates of water onto the first floor. Having a small warehouse for essential items located far away from civilization had seemed impractical his first read through that he thought he misunderstood the map, but he could see the logic now. With limited resources, the local government was burdened by restless citizens whose poor livelihood rotted further. Who knew what one would do to help their loved ones or themselves.

That being said, there had to be more suitable locations for water. He wiped at the sweat under his nose, the perspiration somehow warming him up rather than cooling him down. How long could the water last in these conditions?

At the stairs, a gentle breeze brushed his face, wafting from the upper floor. Even a marginal benefit surpassed nothing. Grabbing the lightest crate with a touch of the Force, he jogged upstairs. It was a mirror of the bottom floor barring the figure crouched near the only window in the hut. Dressed in a white thobe and head scarf, they ignored his arrival.

Apparently this site was already leaked. “Excuse me, are you lost?”

“Huh?” They turned around, face covered by the scarf and gigantic, black-tinted cover goggles. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m an appraiser for this building. Unless you’re a potential buyer, I must ask you to vacate the premises.”

“Really? In the middle of a jungle?”

He couldn’t be faulted for trying. Not like he could hide the crates from the stranger’s sight quick enough. The Twi’leks depended on him and Anakin for preserving the remaining spots.

He inclined in a deferential posture, mentally cycling through which various societal proprieties he was supposed to implement in the Outer Rim. “If it’s money you’re after, I can transfer a credit line directly to you when I get back to my ship. It’s more valuable than the potential profit you’d make off selling necessary supplies.”

“Don’t worry, Obi-Wan. I’m not going steal from you.” At Obi-Wan’s startled look, the stranger pulled down their scarf to show a black neck gaiter. “Oh. Right, it’s Vader.”

“You-” He withdrew his lightsaber, the blue blade illuminating the room.

“Whoa! Put that out!” Vader stayed near the ground despite his nervousness and edged away from the window.

“After you followed me here, Vader? I think not.” How naïve did Vader think he was to try to deceive Obi-Wan again?

“Obi-Wan, turn your lightsaber off! There’s a vibrosword next your foot so put that down,” Vader pleaded, not even the face covering that muffled his voice managing to conceal his urgency.

Odd. Wasn’t the reaction he was expecting. He picked up the purple vibrosword that rang in his palms while keeping an eye on his enemy. As long as Vader remained relaxed, he wouldn’t initiate a fight. Once he switched it off, he asked, “How did you trail us? I never even sensed you.”

Pleased Obi-Wan had given in, he replied, “I didn’t. It should be pretty obvious I got here way before you did.”

“So our meeting was just chance?”

“You can call it luck.” With that, Vader turned back to the window and whipped out a pair of electrobinoculars, his focus elsewhere.

Obi-Wan was stuck. Standard procedure called for arresting a criminal who stole from the Order. Anyone capable of overtaking a Jedi presented a danger to the Republic, a threat to democracy itself. But no bounty had been placed, the Council was convinced Obi-Wan had misjudged, and he couldn’t sense another kyber crystal close by. Aside from the rumor of Vader promising to eradicate everything Obi-Wan believed in, which he had to trust Dex’s word entirely, he exhibited no aggressive sign. And it would be completely undignified to fear a man who diminished the electrobinoculars’ effectiveness by insisting on wearing goggles.

He snorted, the picture laid out in front too ridiculous for the weather. Call it misuse of the Force, but he thought he could be forgiven for hovering all the crates upstairs while he watched Vader watch something or someone. As soon as he brought the last one up, Vader dropped the electrobinoculars and stood up, a noise sounding like a pop coming from his knee.

Vader slipped past him, aiming for one of the water jugs and disregarded Obi-Wan brandishing the vibrosword. Leaning on a wall located on the left side, Vader waited for a minute before the wall depressed, a vacant cooling storage inside.

“Oh. Thank you,” Obi-Wan said. 

“Hm. Is this everything?” Vader stashed away one of the jugs and went back for another one. “Before you say anything, I don’t care where the other caches are.”

At least the odds of Vader smuggling was out, the possibility slim anyways. He couldn’t say why he felt strongly about defending Vader’s character as an unsavory pirate, the two of them strangers. It seemed unwise to possess misconceptions about anyone even if they were unfriendly. “Everything’s been brought up.”

“Good. It’d be a pain in the ass if not.”

“You want to help?”

“I’m done for the day. Got nothing else to do.” Vader rubbed the top of one of the jug’s handle. “And while watching you get pissy if I did nothing sounds funny, I’d rather us be friends.”

“Need I remind you what I said before?”

“Come on, admit it. Had I approached you any other day, you’d be fine with it.”

The first crate was emptied out and Vader tossed it aside as Obi-Wan said, “I don’t see how you’ve come to that conclusion. Friends of the Dark Side are no friends of mine.”

“And without an opposing force, where would the Jedi be?”

“We would be free to perform out duties without fanatics frustrating our efforts. Whatever organization you’re a part of, I lack faith they’re any good if they propose dissolving modern society.” The second crate gone.

“And if I left the planet, would you stop the slavery ring here?”

That was an unfair accusation. Since he was young, he had endured all sorts of populace claiming the Jedi were nothing more than glorified minions for the Republic. Sycophants, puppets, chained tyrants. Processes were put in place to clarify their roles as servants who carried out the will of the people. He wouldn’t play ignorant. The Senate was corrupt just as the Jedi were not. But as long as the foundations for the Republic persisted through the turmoil, he had to be fighting for the right cause.

“If I am given permission, then yes. Until then, I have a job to do,” he said, the drop in tone signaling his disinterest in talking further. They were halfway done. He’d report to the Council when this was over.

“Obi-Wan, wait.” Vader latched on his wrist, smart enough to realize Obi-Wan would consider him dangerous had he reached for the hand gripping the weapon. “I’m not saying it’s your fault. Just what’s wrong with taking matters in your own hands? What are they going do if you bag one slaver?”

“I’d be an idealistic vigilante.”

“Again, what’s wrong with doing what’s right?”

Doing the right thing. Saving others. Throughout their entire conversation, these un-Sith points cropped up. In fact, he’d go as far to say they couldn’t even be labelled tenets of the Dark Side. 

“Which side of the Force do you align with?” he asked.

“Both.”

“That’s impossible. One will eventually influence the other.” Granted that Windu’s personal lightsaber form Vapaad only contained traces of the Dark Side, Vader was arrogant in thinking he could harmonize both more efficiently than a Master.

Vader’s thumb smoothed against Obi-Wan’s heightened pulse, the nail catching between two veins. “Well, what do you feel from me?”

He wanted to prove his case. The common misinterpretation that he and other padawans believed of true balance in the Force meaning to unite both sides into one was false. Not even animals capable of using the Force were neutral, all slotting into their picks. 

Except it did exist. Instead of both sides dulled down to incorporate into a cesspit of worn-down opposites, they swirled together in an indistinguishable accord, radiating each side’s full potential and its wholeness simultaneously. Fully cognizant of its inherent contradiction yet flourishing in its aberrant nature. How could someone experience such a sensation?

Obi-Wan must had asked this question out loud since Vader said, “It’s natural to me.” His thumb tracked the dip separating his wrist from his hand. “It’s just the Force. There’s nothing good or bad about it, it’s just there.”

Flitting his eyes at Vader, Obi-Wan observed him. Vader’s height exceeded his, not to the point of towering but enough to see a noticeable difference. These goggles made his eye color further difficult to discern, but he could identify the shape, a slight hood partially shrouding the upper eyelid. He seemed young, likely younger than Obi-Wan. 

Vader’s eyes wrinkled. “I’ll teach you if you stay the night. Think of all the things you could learn.”

“Your offer is noted, but I have a padawan to look after.” He detached his hand out of Vader’s and continued stacking away the water. Vader hadn’t moved from his position, his head propped near the opening.

“I’m serious. There’s a bed in one of the walls if you’re worried about where to lie down.”

He didn’t question whether Vader meant there was more than one bed, the answer clear in his voice. They packaged away all the water, the labor exerting misery in his back. Vader stuck behind him as he walked to his harvester, so much so that if he stopped walking Vader could embrace him with minimal movement.

For a day that ended successfully, it was only logical for a new issue to occur. The harvester wouldn’t start, silent even though he turned the key. From the time spent with Anakin at the hangar, he knew the cause was a dead battery. 

“Need a ride?” Vader asked.

Obi-Wan ducked down, searching for the underside panel. Completely bolted down. “Looks like I have no choice. Very well, I accept.” The thought of using the vibrosword had briefly passed through his mind but then he tossed it out. It wasn’t his to keep.

Vader didn’t verbalize a response to its return, but Obi-Wan was curious about one thing. “Why do you carry a vibrosword when you stole a lightsaber?”

“Until I get a crystal, it’s just decoration. No, I’m not going to swipe any from your precious caves, don’t ask.”

“If that’s the case, may I have it back?”

“You’re sitting back.”

After Vader assured him that he would pick up Obi-Wan early tomorrow morning so he could make his other trips on time, they drove off. Vader’s driving was smooth despite using only one hand, the other one over Obi-Wan’s folded hands. As a way to make sure he didn’t fall off. 

He’d let the behavior go today. As the jungle darkened from upcoming nightfall, the blue from the sky descending towards the ground, he wondered how today would had fared with Anakin. It would be filled with constant chatter during the ride back to camp, for sure. Although he was positive Anakin would insist on pushing through more sectors to return home quicker. 

He should praise Anakin more often. Not so much so that he got a bloated head. The last thing his padawan needed was a cocky attitude outside of piloting. But Anakin did deserve to know that his efforts were acknowledged, and that Obi-Wan was grateful. The first action he would take besides drawing a bath or the closest equivalent would be to do so.


End file.
